What is Lost
by wolfcries
Summary: Growing up was such a god awful task. Wendy had been forgotten, left behind by the one man she cared for. She would return to never land, not as young Wendy but as Red Handed Jill. In return she would gain the adventure of a life time, and the pleasure of someone she would have never expected. RATED M FOR ADULT THEMES. (Sexual violence)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N- I do not own Peter Pan. I just thought I would give this story a go. R&R please! _

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Growing up was such a god awful task. The responsibilities became endless; the need to proper oneself became necessity. It was practically basic principle to become perfect in the eyes of society. She stared into the mirror through the gleam of room lights. Her fingers drifted over her skin, the pail flesh shivered over the small brush. Her stomach was lean, breast perky but just the right size… or, at least, that was what her mother had been telling her. Her lips scrunched to the side in a disapproving motion. She had grown into her smooth curves, giving her body that pleasing hour glass shape most women yearned for. Her lean fingers brushed over the curve of her breast, following down over the tender sweep of her hips. She did not understand what was so 'pleasing' about her body. She did not find it all that pleasing. Shyly she took in the 'V' between her legs. Her mother told her how a woman pleases her husband, how the act could produce children in turn. Tightly she bit her lip. Her mother explained how she will have to please to soon 'to be' husband, and how the first time will hurt. Her eyes drifted from the reflection, she had a husband to be, and she could not be more unpleased by the fact. She did not want another man; her heart still ached for Peter. Her ocean eyes flashed to the mirror angrily. She could not have Peter; she had grown up without him. She was now eighteen, a woman… and Peter, well he could not be older than eleven. The bitter taste of tears built in her throat. She should have never of left; she should have stayed at his side. The anger bubbled in her lungs. Through the hot tears leaking down her cheeks she grabbed the closest object, shattering the mirror that arrogantly gazed back at her. She let a sore scream crawl forth, bringing her to her knees in a painful weep. Long strawberry blond curls dangled helplessly down her spine, pooling over her shoulders to lay rest on her lap. Her fingers covered her face desperately trying to hide the pitiful tears behind her eyes. Had she known…. Had she known, she…

She would have still left…

A sour laugh hummed her lips. That was right. She wanted to grow up. Lazily she stood, taking in the mirror with a glare. She was to be married in the morning, to an older man. Aunty had told stories about how 'fabulously' wealthy her husband to be was. Personally, she had given him so little thought that she had not cared to remember his name. The mirror glared back in acknowledgement.

'_Run away Wendy Darling. Return to dear, dear Neverland.'_ Her conscience was cruel. She watched as it smugly propped her fingers to her naked waist and smirk back through the cracks in the glass. She could not return. She slammed her fist into the broken shards hastily, earning fresh blood to be leaked from her tiny fists. "Shut up!" She bit her words, turning on heels away from the reflection. She quickly swept her lounge robe about her shoulders, feeling she sleek silk against her naked skin. The gown had been an imported 'kimono' from a distant country, a humble wedding gift from her husband to be. She cared little how her blood was beginning to stain the sky blue silk. It was sad to know such delicate decoration put into the sweet butterflies and cherry blossoms was all for none. She had not bothered tying the garment as she stumbled to the large window, pushing it open so she may rest against the tiny balcony rails.

She gazed down, hugging the kimono to her body as the wind whipped through her long curls. Suddenly the red seeping from her fingers caught her crescent gaze. Slowly she turned her palms over, taking in the splendour of glass penetrating her skin. The salted liquid gently slipped from her chin and onto the awaiting wound below. She could not understand. Why had growing up been so painful for her? The lost boys surly had no trouble; they quite enjoyed the fact of becoming men. She let her hands fall back to her sides, forgetting how to be modest with her state of dress. She addressed the stars above her dejectedly. Perhaps she could fly there; surely all she needed was happy thoughts. Tenderly she gripped the thick railing in front of her, pulling the weight of her body with it. Her naked feet were supple to the cold marble, running gooseflesh up her skin. She scrambled to wrap the twisting silk around her bare curves, pulling the belt tight to her waist in a knot. Loosely the belt loop slipped from her fingers, dancing into the subtle breeze. Steadily she breathed deep, eloping the bitter night air with her lungs while steadily her arms stretched out. To be able to catch the air beneath her arms again; oh, such feeling of freedom that she could never feel. Heavily her eyes shuttered close, dreaming of the island that bewitched her sleep. She wondered if the boy who would never grew up even remembered her. "Oh Peter…" There it was again, the salt water that plagued her, keeping her anything but happy. "You never came back for me." Her voice wheezed through the tears. "Why Peter?" The silk slipped over her shoulders with a great huff of wind. It hung dangerously low to her breasts, exposing the poised cleavage and milky skin. She ignored it. Her chest was not exposed completely, only the delicate curve. She could care less. "Why did you not come back?"

She wished that he could be there, fingers testing the softness of her shoulder, examining the changes that came with growing up. He would have so many questions; ask for the great story that accompanied being older. But… there was no great story, she had no fantasy to portray, just that growing up without him was awful. Her head tilted feebly to the side, imaging the trace of his fingers against her pink cheeks that sweetly drifted down her neck. What would Peter think of her now? Would he even recognise her? A sigh stalked her lungs, of course he would not, she looked nothing like the young child she had been. "My, young Wendy, quite the enchanting minx you have become." Something in her heart iced over in distaste, realizing the once imaginary trace of fingers heated in the afterglow of life. Her eyes fluttered open in animosity. Ringlet curls, black as the night beseeched her eyes appallingly, and she glared into glacier eyes.

"Do explain why you are alive." She did not move from her post upon the marble railing, did not shutter from his touch.

"Do explain, my dear, why you are ready to leap from a balcony." The humor in his tone was left unnoticed as she let her hands fall back to her side. Her strawberry curls tossed agitatedly about in the calling wind, she had no answer as in to why. She had no intention to die.

"I was hoping to fly."

"Ah," The caption tipping his hat, then with a chuckle he examined the shear blade of his hook. "A failing task I suspect. If I remember correctly, beauty, you need faery dust for that."

"Leave me be, Hook." She took in the ship sails in the distance, floating discreetly in the fall clouds. The question plague her mind, just how was it **he** obtained enough faery dust for such a task? "Why are you even here?"

"Oh, I heard a whisper on the wind how our Red Handed Jill was to be wed. Last night to spend as a young woman before true responsibility kicks in. How awful it must be, knowing tonight is your last chance at freedom." His fingers graced her cheek comfortably and her gaze lost all hostile nature. Regrettably it fell, watching the dead city streets below. "Unless, of course, if you fly away; return to Neverland once more."

Promptly she turned back to him, dumbfounded by the remark. "I cannot return."

"Why ever not, you want your freedom do you not?" Silently he caught her large curl between his fingers, pulling it to his lips. She stuttered on the words to say. Of course she did not want to be married, of course she wanted to return, but, she did not want to return with him. She wanted Peter. "You want grand adventures do you not, Red?" She leaned away from the sweep of the bitter cold hook against her plump lip, only to find his non-lethal hand snaked about her waist. "Then return with me, return to Nederland and forget."

The temptation of his words was as fatal as his bladed hand. Doubt crept into her soul, forcing the tender glance back at her room. This was the life she gave Neverland up for, now here she was, wishing to return because of her hate for it. How ironic. The grip around her waist was tight, slowly causing her feet to glide off the balcony rail. She glanced down nervously, watching as the heels of her feet slowly became all that remain against the stone. "You would not dare."

"I am afraid that I did not come here with the intentions of you saying no." He tugged, forcing Wendy into a panic. A yelp passed her lips when all stability was lost beneath her and her body jolted with fright. With haste she threw her arms around his neck to keep her from falling. There was an agreeable hum rumbling in his chest at her actions. Meekly she looked up at him, embarrassed by her own movement. "Are you ready to return to Neverland, Wendy?" Between hanging on for dear life and her heart hammering like drums in her ears, she took the time to glare at him. He was already moving them back to the ship, floating them through the abyss of clouds to her awaiting end. Could she forget this life and return? Forget her family and her marriage? The answer in her mind could not be more obvious.

"Yes." In all reality there was no real reason to answer him, but she had anyway, earning a broad smile on his rugged face. She had not notice when she had been a child, but for an older man he was quite handsome. Thick curls hung loosely around his shoulders, and a modest mustache perched above his lips. His eyes were the color of ice, almost so blue that they could not be describe with words. She had learned time in Neverland did not exist, so the man who looked of thirty could possibly be hundreds of years old. Silently she wondered if time would freeze for her too. Would she stay young forever? Trapped in a reality where the ticking clock silently stood by. Tightly she smiled; well, for most it did. The Captain did not have as that wondrous luck, it followed him hungrily. She stared up at him curiously, his gaze so concentrated, so fierce. She could not fathom why he always looked so bloodthirsty, why he hated Peter so. There was a fine difference between the two. Obviously they were as opposite as the north and south; but, Captain James Hook could have been Peter Pan. The decision that separated them was one single choice. It was almost cruel.

Her feet graced the smoothed ship boards, breathing a strange sense of belonging into her. She was so close. The air reeked in the thick musk of cigars and soaked cedar; but, hiding beneath the musk was luscious salt, of rain and trees. She sucked in the tender smells of her forgotten land. This was home, trapped between vigorous forest and salty sea. She wiggled her toes acceptingly against the hardwood as the great ship weaved in the rolling wind.

"Ello Captin'."

"Ah, Mr. Smee, Take the lovely Wendy to her cabin." His hand pushed the coo of her spine, encouraging her towards the old man. A warm smile crept towards her lips. She remembered Mr. Smee, he was a lovely old man. He had a pure soul, a good heart. It baffled her why he was under Hook's command; he never was violent.

"Red handed Jill, well bless me soul, dear you have grown. " He rushed to her side, taking her hands with a humble smile, a sigh of relief past her when he only took the time to grip the very tips. His old hands reached, cupping her cheek lovingly; She could not help but smile into the touch. He reminded her of the grandfather she never had. "An' so lovely, may I add."

"Thank you Mister Smee." She watched as Hook longed up the stairs, taking in the sight of the awaiting crew. They relied on him for many things, she realized that now. Ice eyes stumbled on her, a gleam of pride flashing through them.

"You ready for a real adventure, Miss Darling?" A hand of flesh reached out for her. Slowly she reached, unsure if she willing to accept. Her teeth drug deep into her lower lip, doubt wracking through her. She pulled back slightly, turning to watch big ben stair back at her. The strong hands ticked on, pushing a smile over her features. She was willing to stop that time, stop it for good. She turned back to him confidently, hand extended.

"Yes Captain, second star to left and strait on till morning."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N- I do not own Peter Pan. _

_T__hough it has to be one of the best works of fiction I have had the pleasure of reading. _

_Please review, I would love to hear everyone's thoughts on my intake of this tale. _

_This story will later contain violence and sexual content._

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Wendy rushed to take hold of her loose gown as the ship went rushing through the night clouds. She could feel her cheeks heating over. The open gown whipped obnoxiously about in the wind, earning the men a gaze of her naked legs. She clapped her thighs together, bunching the fabric between them while her fingers dug in to cover her breast. She regretted the fact how she earlier ignored her nakedness, that she allowed herself to be shown in such exposing cloth. She clenched her fists harder, gaining a hiss of pain to leave her throat. She glanced down, the bleeding had yet to cease, and the more she hung on the more the glass would dig. "Why don't we get you inside dear?" Mr. Smee's old voice cooed over her, building a sense of relief. His shaken aged hand tapped her shoulder reassuringly, guiding her towards the captain's quarters. She was reluctant on going to that room in particular, but with the crowd of hungry men watching her struggle with her state of dress… she did not complain. She smiled when Mr. Smee pushed the door open for her, throwing a kind smile back he lead her into the safe heaven. "This room shall do until our arrival, young Jill. Now," He rushed down the large hardwood room, turning into the closest closet door. Wendy glanced around, the ship was different than she remembered. The room was large, made out of beautiful dark red wood, polished and shined to perfection. There was certain elegance about the room, the colors of black cherry and mahogany red that portrayed hook in every concept. The room belong to him; there was no doubt about that. Her brow rose when she caught sight of the black piano, sitting alone in the large curved bay windows. She felt bewitched because of how it gleamed in the cream moon light, clouds dancing past the window beyond. Standing in that bay, she imagined, made you feel as if you were drifting through in the sky itself. "So what do you think Jill."

Her body leaped at his voice, completely forgetting his presence. Her hand stretched to her heart, attempting to still its quivering beats. She took a deep breath, voice trembling slightly. "Forgive me Mr. Smee… I got distracted." She glanced back, seeing he had been pulling clothing from the closet.

"Ahhh, it's alright dear." He held up a scarlet poet's shirt, and chuckled. "Just askin if you would prefer, sometin' else to wear."

"Oh, please," She trotted to his side, slipping the luscious red cotton from his hands. It was soft, felt wonderful against the bare skin. "This would be wonderful Mr. Smee, thank you."

"No need to thank me, dear." He turned against looking for more. "Just doin me duties." She waited a short moment, Mr. Smee was caught up in the closest, debating to himself witch article or clothing would look best on her. A small giggle breached her lips as she fumbled to make the sash tighter on her waist. She had a shirt, but not yet something for her lower half. She was not going to embarrass herself yet again on her state of dress. She let her arms slipped through the heavy cloth of her kimono, until the thick blue silk fell against the sash on her hips. She smiled as she pulled the red cloth over her head; it was an easy task to push over the stack of red curls, seeing as the poet's shirt was at least two sizes too big. She examined the black stitching that combined so neatly with the red hues, watched as it engraved neat lines down the deep 'V' neckline. Her lips scrunched to the side bitterly. Her cleavage was being put on for show, but she doubted that she would find a shirt that did not. "An' how about these tights red handed…" her eyes turned to him when his words began to mumble off into oblivion.

"Mr. Smee?" She eyed him suspiciously, making the old man blush with embarrassment. His old fingers dashed into his hair, pulling the red beanie from his head and pushing the knitted cloth to his eyes. She reached forward, taking the tights from his hands.

"I…I-I-I'm sorry, miss Jill…" He stumbled back, bumping his old body into the cupboard behind him. "If… If I had known you weren't descent. I…I…" Her head cocked to the side, confused. She looked down, seeing nothing about her state of dress that had been any different. She ignored it for a moment, allowing herself the time to stretch the black tights up her long legs. She nested them neatly on her hip line. Leaning forward into a stretch she allowed to body to test the flexibility of the fabric, it was fantastic. Never before was she allowed to wear men's pants, it was simply unheard of in modern society. A girl could move in pants and she certainly could fight. She gleamed, glowing head to toe in excitement. With one tug of the sash the kimono dropped to the ground, easing a sigh from her lips. It was as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"It's alright , I am done. Forgive me I should have given you more warning." She lifted her hand allowing it to drag through the mess of red curls; then it caught on a hiss. Her hand retracted faster than the ability she had to. Her skin itched and ached, mentally hissed in anger at her actions. Then an old hand cupped hers, exposing the wound to light. There was a tic of the old man's tongue, then a pop of a cork. Slowly she gazed up at his fumbling hand, trying to understand what it was he was grabbing and came to her understanding too late. It felt like fire was piercing her skin, liquid fire that traced deep down into her wounds. She screeched, instinctively trying to retreat the wounded appendage. She sucked in a breath deep and hard to bite off a few words. "What. Was that?!"

"Rum," He wheezed a chuckled while tossing the bottle back, drinking in a big swig of it himself. "Great stuff; always does wonders for the body." Using her injury as leverage he pulled her toward the bed, she eyed him angry. There was no way she was going to merrily cosy herself onto Captain Hook's bed. The old man was now shorter than she; he couldn't possibly expect to intimidate her, especially when he still would not properly look at her. "Now Red handed Jill, sit down or I will use the rum again." Her heart sunk. Ah, so the old man could still threaten her. She thumped herself down, desperately trying not to cross her arms like an ignorant child. His laughter hummed around her, finding it infectious on her lips. The smallest smile cracked her features watching as the old man tumbled through the cupboards. "Ah, found them!"

She could feel the breath catch in her throat as he moved closer; in his hands were a large set of tweezers, ready to pull the glass from her hand. She found herself inching back, gaining more and more distance from Mr. Smee upon the large bed. "That is not necessary Mr. Smee, honestly I am in good health."

"Stop yur' complaining miss… it'll only take a wee second."

Wendy did not believe she had ever felt such pain in her life, nor did she ever want to again. A blazon fire had been let loose upon her nerves, scorching to no avail. It drugged her in numbing wave of nausea, and set the pins into her tattered skin. Her body was at breaking point when Mr. Smee had bandaged up her hands, leaving her to rest in the captain's courters. She did not complain; she was far too tired to do such a thing. She stretched out on Hook's bed, the heavy red cotton playing coy against her cheeks. It was there she drifting into the great beyond, each time the ship swayed in the breeze the darkness fell. It was tender against her eyes, subjecting her to the unknown. There was a place in her soul where the dreaming always took her, a secret she left tucked away in a small drawer. The night would take her there, to this cryptic place she kept spirited away, and it was there she would dream of darkness.

_Her skin prickled under the water embrace, the naked sea against peach flesh. She found herself here most nights, in the very sea of Never Land, watching its vivid life bloom just beneath the surface. It was like being captured in ice, unmoving, burning in a hypothermic state. She had once tried to scream for help, for someone to drag her from the oblivion beyond, but found herself with no voice. Her body would sway in the currants, pushing in hysteric grace against the angered waters. Never Land was angry with her, so belittled by the fact she had left. So in her dreams it would pull her back out of torment, to let her watch the world she yearned for at an unmoving distance. It was here she realised how much she hated her life; here in this great abyss that forever drown her soul. Ironically it left her screaming for the very air she left behind. In the depth of the vary nights her skin would grow cold, deep beyond the waters mist. There where nights she'd watch the pirate ships depart, drifting so delicately across the liquid glass edge. It was here in the reflection of the world above, this place she had forgotten, that she became lost in the soul of her never land. It was here her inner being departed without her. It left behind the empty husk that she had become; being pushed from ballroom to ballroom, suffocated in corsets and frilled dresses. Hating every moment she continued breathing. It was that empty husk that her fiancé had waited upon, but soon would find she had gone, never to return._

_Never was such an awfully long time._

_Good her heart cried, let them wait on me, window open and all._

_The water about her abruptly shifted, sending waves of heat through her. Her heart climbed in her throat, anxious. The current turned around her, making her body free once more. She paused… freedom, was it true? How long had it been since she been free to roam this watery prison? How long had she waited for this day to come? Her breath caught in her throat as her body inched towards the awaiting surface beyond, this silken drapery she had not had the pleasure to see past for so long. Her fingers reached, easing into the seeing glass above. There was a thunder in her heart that her ears could not hear past. Her feet kicked swiftly under her, trotting her ever so closer to the surface, she pushed, hands reaching above her. How she wished to feel the morning air, to see the land she had lost? Her body quivered in anticipation, fingers just about to reach the surface above, and it was there they hit a rock hard surface above. Was that ice? Breath caught in her throat, feeble fist slamming into the barrier above. _

_Her hands rushed to her neck, clawing for air. She could no longer breath; take the waters air… no she was trapped beneath the frozen sheet above. Her eyes scraped the surface above, finding no air pockets, nothing to sustain her. Her feet kicked jagged below her, shoving hands first into the above. Panic shifting its way through her insides, curtailing like bad milk in her stomach. There was a dull ring in her ears, a thunder of blood rushing through her veins, voices she could not fathom; only panic could be understood. Body pushing, heart thumping, lungs screaming she clashed into the crystal above. The pressure in her chest built, pulling in her lungs like she was breathing molten lead. This was her curse, to die inches from the home her heart ached for._

_She let a scream rip through her, bubbling the tender blue water around her. Soon everything became a blur between broken breaths, blackness settling around her. What had she done? **Wendy**…The darkness crept closer calling her name as it fallowed. **Sweet, sweet Wendy**; her heart skipped a breath, stomach dropping. Was she dying?_

"WENDY!"

Her body curled forward, chest arching forward in its attempt to take an unreachable breath. Her lungs sputtered, body convulsing. Her stomach heaved, threatening to release the bile burning deep in her throat. Wide eyes stretched across the length the black roof; black, gold… she returned to the land of the living. Yet, air could still not be accessed. A hand clasped around her gaping jaw, throwing her head back. Air came thirstily down, her body dank it in like sweet tea. There was a body over her, keeping her from shaking about. Then the air stopped dry, throwing a cough to tare through her vocals. Her lungs hurt, chest seizing under the panic of death. "Shhh, shhh, that's it." A voice cooed over her. It was smooth, as it was husky… oh, the infamous James Hook; she knew his voice far too well. "Breath, Wendy." He shifted; face towering over her, fingers brushing her cheeks as if soothing the air down.

It was long before air became a normality. Her throat was run raw, her body shaken. Hook stayed where he was, straddling her abdominal, keeping her body from any movement, keeping her from self-harm. His finger slowly left her, allowing her head full movement once again. She stared at him, unsure of how to thank such a deed. He saved her life, and she had done nothing but bring misery to his.

"Tha-"

His face turned into a scowl, fingers clamping over her mouth. They bit hard, drawing a dire gasp from her tongue. "Do. Not." His eyes turned dark. "Say that." Her heart stumbled under the gaze of his ocean eyes. Staring into them was like falling back into to her dreams, water inhaling into her lungs just beneath the ice. Silently she wondered how long he spent beneath that ice, waiting inside the hungry ticking clock. His eyes where penetrating, grooving deep into her own with insightful hatred.

How long had he habited such dark emotions, such hatred and despair? Had his heart long iced over of pain and deceit? Who knows how many thousands years he spent in torment, being attacked by a mere child. Ridiculed and tortured.

Her mind wandered back to gruesome days she sat in the drawing room, young woman gossiping all about her. She never knew hate more than listening to those women, panting like dogs in heat oven men they wished to pursue. It was not long before young Wendy Darling would begin to babble on about dashing males she once met so long ago just to shut them up, and the woman ate up her very words. The young Ladies of London begged to hear more, of adventures, but mostly of the men. She spoke a lot of Peter, but left out the tiny details; such as his ability to fly. They found his innocents and humour fascinating, specially his sense of adventure. They loved the idea of a man swooning a woman off her feet, seizing her through the undertaking of life. She explained that was the first time she ever fell in love, half joked about how it was her last. They prodded for more, kneading at her with prickled voices and demanding words. She had no more to give, that was until… she remembered eyes of forget-me-nots.

That day… lasted hours longer than needed.

Woman of Victorian society love a good scandal, and to Miss Wendy's concerned, Sir Captain James Hook was enough scandal to (as she recalled them explaining) '_wet their nickers for weeks to come._' For the longest time Wendy did not understand their obsession over the captain, he was not more than a horrid villain. One of the other ladies giggled at her, explaining,

_'Darling, he's worth swooning over. He is what every woman wants.' Wendy_ did not have time to respond to it, another had already cut in.

_'Yes. Tall, exotic, savage... oooh.' _She cooed beneath her words. _'A villain to leave to you breathless.' _

She still did not understand. She certainly did not want a villain to 'leave her breathless.' The only reason to be breathless in Hooks presence would because of death approaching you, a death at his very villainess feet.

Though… she paused; her eyes trickled across his bold features. He was perfect in the eyes of _men_. Sharp features, bold chin, thick and rippling muscle. He seemed to the kind of man the woman always whispered about; A ruffian, rugged, savage and bold. Her eyes bushed over his face. The strong curve of his face, brushed with the neatly trimmed hairs about his chin. Thick waves of curls about his face… beautiful perfect waves that traveled down his back. Oh… and his eyes. His eyes where the one thing about this man she could never forget; for the blue depths intrigued her so. Lost in this sea of his soul where death could run the rivers red. Was that really what every woman wanted? Suddenly she wished she had paid more attention to their boring stories, why exactly was he everything they wanted?

"Are you finished, Darling?" Her cheeks flushed instantly, realizing she had been seizing down every inch of him. Her face burned out of embarrassment, how could she had done such a thing, wondering so intently about Hook… was… well unheard of. She looked away, trying to eye the corner of the room from under the pressure of his hand. The weight shifted, his hand tested is way up from her lips, fingers draping across the scarlet hue. They hesitated on the lover bud, causing a race in her thundering heart. She was tempted to look back up, to look into the eyes that plagued her stories. "What a pleasure it is to know, Miss Darling, that I take your breath away."

Her eyes fell into a heated glare beneath him. He sounded like those infuriating woman. She lashed out, her palms smacking into his chest attempting to remove his presence. "Get off of me this instant, you savage  
buffoon." He did nothing but release a deep chuckle at her actions.

"How unlady like Wendy Darling. Is that anyway to thank your Captain, after all I have done for you?"

She huffed under him. "You, Sir, are no Captain of mine."

"So you think my lovely Jill." His words stung, clawing into her heart like a hook. She gave up on Peter to be a pirate, because she once believed the Captain to be a man of 'feeling'. She practically snarled. Oh, he was a man of 'feeling' alright; he felt anger; he felt envy, along with a lot more sinful and horrid feelings.

He lifted from her without another word, leaving her in question. No deceit coming from the Captain, no words of promise or lies? Slowly she sat, watching him strut to the cabin door, long legs stretching forward. She eyed them only for a moment, watching for the strength in his steps. It was there he stopped, waiting with patients she did not realize he possessed. Ice eyes turned to her, watching her with dull amusement. "Come Jill, we have returned." Her heart shuttered.

Could it be true, had the waters of her life shifted as her dream predicted?

"Returned?" She stood slowly, feet hesitant to move farther. Fear swelled in her throat, knees threatened to buckle. She swallowed a shallow breath, forcing the air down in defined pressure.

"Yes." His fingers brushed the mahogany, draping across them in a teasing temptation. "Welcome again, Miss Darling, to NeverLand." The door swung on it hinges with one press of his index finger and she was left breathless.

She felt her soul return with a sweep of fresh morning air, heart filling with utter completion. So sweet the morning dew felt as it raced into her lungs, so warm was the radiating sun beyond that cabin door. A breeze came to dance across her feet, pulling her closer into the sweet embrace that was this land. So onwards her feet drug; onwards towards the sweet 'come hither' of her calling soul. Her eyes caught the roll of the distant sea, so blue was its aqua, as if it was eyes she always seemed to become lost in. The salt in the air became so potent, so clearing to the soul. The deep wash of the waves whispered lustful nothings in her ears. The brush of the liquid glass against the ships side promised an eternal dance of life. Then she was beyond that door, the captain forgotten behind her… but all she could see was a small island in the wandering distance. So green was the tree line, thick brush hiding the secret world beyond from prying eyes. A sense of belonging found her, a sense of reassuring harmony.

_I have waited a long time for you, Wendy Darling._ The air cooed around her. Yes, she knew what spoke had waited a very long time for her return indeed. There was a nimble hum in the winds, praying coy against her spine. It was pushing her closer in humble greed for her presence.

"Breath taking," The heat of his breath trickled down her neck, lips hushing tenderly in her ear. A hand came about her shoulders, while hook grazing her hips. She shivered beneath the unexpected brush.

"Never had truer words been spoken, Sir." She almost could not hear herself; sounds that her lips with little breath upon them.

"Never is such a strong word, Miss Darling." His hand came tracing down her arm, fallowing each nook and cranny that came along the way. A smile breached her lips, he was right. Never was the strongest word indeed, but she would not have it any other way. She turned on him abruptly and his sapphire eyes dancing within hers.

"Captian I-"

"Capin', Capin'!" The growl that left James Hooks lips was savage.

"What." He snaped. "is it Mr. Smee?"

"Well… I… It's…" The old man stumbled on his words, laced in fear and deep concern. "…uh."

"Out with it Smee!"

"Ooooh, Captain Hook." This new voice that found them left a waver in Wendy's heart.

No… It could not be. "Peter…?"


End file.
